Goodbye, My Love
by turntoPaige394
Summary: *NOW EXTENDED TO AN ENTIRE STORY* Katniss has been in love with Peeta since the incident with the bread and now that they have been reaped, she will do anything in her power to keep him safe from the Capitol and out of the clutches of President Snow.
1. Prologue

***DISCLAIMER: THESE WONDERFUL CHARACTERS BELONG TO SUZANNE COLLINS, NOT ME***

 **Prologue**

* * *

It's a little past midnight now and Jackson is already asleep at her post. So much for helping me guard Peeta.

Not like he needs much guarding at the moment anyway. Peeta sits on a pile of rubble under a broken window, his hands bound, staring blankly into the night sky. In this light, he almost seems like himself again; the gentle boy with the bread. Until he can feel me watching him and he turns to glare at me, eyes full of distrust. "What?" He says, his voice acerbic. "Think I'm going to make a run for it?"

I shake my head, "No. Running away is my thing, not yours."

He almost snorts with disdain, his eyes turning away from me, "You seem almost proud of that."

"It's not something to be proud of."

We sit in silence for awhile, the only sounds coming from my team all sleeping restlessly a few yards behind us. Peeta doesn't move, he just continues to stare into the darkness outside. It occurs to me that this is the first time since getting Peeta back from President Snow that we have truly been alone. Or as alone as we can be, with everyone sleeping a few yards away. This is a luxury I thought I would never have again.

I push myself up from the rubble that litters the floor of the crumbling building and walk over to where Peeta is sitting. The window is large enough for both of us to sit beneath it without touching. I take a seat next to him and instantly feel the tension in air. I choose to ignore it.

"Peeta," my voice is small. I try to convince myself it's because I am trying to be considerate and not wake the others, but who am I kidding? "If I had things to say, would you listen?"

He hesitates, "How do I know if the things you tell me are real or not?"

"We are closing in on the heart of the Capitol, Peeta. That means that any day could be my last. At this point, what motivation could I possibly have to lie to you?"

Peeta considers this for a moment, "...I suppose you're right."

He does not say anything else, but I take this as a sign that he'll listen to me. It takes me a few minutes to gather my jumbled thoughts before I begin. "I made a terrible mistake and I think about it every day."

"And which mistake is that? I can think of a few," he says with that hostile tone that belongs only to the Peeta from the Capitol.

"At the Quarter Quell, when they split us up at the lightening tree. I never should have left you," my voice is barely above a whisper now. I don't dare look at Peeta because I know if I do, I won't be able to continue and I have so much to say while I finally have the chance. "I am so sorry, Peeta. I am so sorry for letting them take you."

His shoulders relax a bit but his voice still has a condescending edge, "They had to save you. You're the Mockingjay."

Coming from Peeta, when he's like this, it seems almost like an accusation. "I never asked for this. I never wanted to be the Mockingjay. I only agreed to do it after they took you because I figured that playing their game was the only way I could hope to get you back."

Peeta rubs his wrists where the shackles held him, "So how does it feel then? Having me back."

I can feel the fissures in my heart threatening to break me again. I struggle to compose my features into the carefully constructed mask that I have perfected over the past few months.

"And you promised not to lie," he adds gently when he sees the look on my face.

I gnaw my bottom lip for awhile before I can't stand to have him look at me anymore. I feel too dirty, too tainted to have his crystalline eyes on me. I put my head down on my knees so I can have a some semblance of shelter from his piercing gaze. "It hurts even more than when the Capitol had you."

Peeta bristled at this, "Then I'm sorry that your friends even bothered to come for me."

"No!" I say a little too loudly, my head snapping up. "That isn't what I meant. It's just..." I have never been very good at the whole 'feelings' thing but here in the dark, at the end of my life with Peeta by my side, I can finally give words to all the things I've been too afraid to. "This is not how I pictured our reunion."

I expect a lot of possible reactions from Peeta, but laughter is one I do not anticipate. "Oh really? How exactly did you think this would go? Did you think I would be overjoyed to see you and when you came running into my open arms, that I would kiss you and forgive you for everything that happened to me? That I would cry and tell you I love you?"

It hits me that that _is_ exactly what I hoped would happen. During the time that Peeta was being held in the Capitol, I came to the realization that I did love him. Finnick is convinced that I have loved Peeta for a very long time before that, but I remember it hitting me when I saw Peeta on the Capitol's broadcasts looking wasted and broken. That was when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would die for him; not because he was a good person or deserved life more than I did, although both of those things are true, but because I was in love with him and wanted to protect him. But hearing Peeta voice my hopes this way, laughing about them, only makes me feel like a foolish little girl.

"Yes," I manage even though my throat is tight. "I hoped for all of that."

Something lingers in Peeta's eyes when he looks at me, but I can't place it. "This conversation," he says, his voice softer. "Real or not real?"

"Real," I say, my voice cracking. Too real. Much, much too real.

"You didn't love me in the first arena. All of the kisses and affection were faked for the cameras. Real or not real?"

Not all of the kisses, but I decide not to confuse him. "Real."

He twists the shackles again and I can tell they are uncomfortable on him. I grab the small key out of the pouch where I keep Peeta's pearl and unlock the cuffs, freeing his hands. He looks down at his hands in shock, obviously surprised that I let him free. "You loved me in the second arena, enough to want to sacrifice yourself for me. Real or not real?"

He looks up at me, his eyes desperate to get a grip on reality. I feel trapped in his gaze and cannot look away. "Real."

For the first time in weeks, I feel like I am looking at the real Peeta. The Peeta I knew back in District 12. His words, though barely audible, are full of agony. "Katniss, what's happening to me?"

Finally, I can't hold back anymore. Consequences be damned, I throw myself into Peeta's arms and lock mine around his neck in an iron grip. Nothing can make me let go, not even if he tries to kill me right now.

But he doesn't.

Instead, I can feel Peeta soften and eventually he wraps his arms around my back. I am surprised by his willingness to hold me; he must be having one of his good moments where he remembers that I'm not a threat. I allow myself this small indulgence. I have had so little happiness in my life lately that I don't even care what happens after this is over. Right now, with Peeta holding me, this is enough.

And with Peeta holding me in the darkness, surrounded by the smoldering ruins of the Capitol and my team sound asleep behind us, I feel safe to let go. The tears begin to flow before I even have a chance to think about it. The fierce sobs, the same ones that appeared after first seeing an emaciated Peeta broadcast for the first time, threaten to start. I can feel them building in my chest, the pain of my entire existence aching to be released. In true 'District 12 Peeta' fashion, he strokes my hair and rocks me back and forth a little in an attempt to calm me down. Once again, I feel like I have the old Peeta, my Peeta, back.

"If you go into hysterics now, you'll wake the entire team and have to explain to them why their Mockingjay is having a meltdown," Peeta says softly, a slight teasing in his voice. "We can't let them think the almighty Katniss Everdeen has emotions, now can we?"

Through the barrage of unrelenting tears, I manage to give a slight chuckle, "Everyone thinks I'm this cold, unfeeling thing. In reality, I'm actually an emotional wreck 90% of the time."

I feel his smile in my hair, "I believe that, you know."

There is a long moment of silence before Peeta speaks again, "How long do we have, Katniss?"

All trace of my laughter is gone and the tears continue. Of course, he is referring to how much time we have until his memories fail him again and he tries to kill me. I tighten my grip on him, unwilling to let him slip away just yet, "I don't know. Probably not very long."

"Then cry if you need to. Do or say whatever you need to feel better. I just can't stand seeing you like this, Katniss. Not when I can remember who you are."

So I do. The tears fall in fat globs onto his shoulder, dampening his black shirt. I cry for a while longer before I force myself to speak. "I'm sorry that it took me this long, Peeta. To realize that I love you. I'm sorry."

Peeta stills for a moment, "You and Gale became lovers while I was held captive in the Capitol. Real or not real?"

I begin to cry a little harder now and turn my face into his neck, "Not real, Peeta. Not real. Not real. I swear to you that is not real."

He resumes stroking my hair and I can feel him let out a long sigh of relief, "Not real," he repeats quietly to himself.

Not knowing how long we have until Peeta changes back, I decide to tell him. For a moment, I stop crying again, "Did you know that I never wanted to get married or have kids?"

"Yes," he says simply. "Everyone in 12 knew that about you. Most people back home felt the same."

"I..." Tears burn my eyes again, threatening to spill over. My voice is muffled by the skin of Peeta's neck, but I know he can hear me. "I remember being forced to do the photo-shoot in all of those wedding gowns and how much I hated every second of it. I felt like a doll, being dressed up and made pretty just for the Capitol's amusement. For Snow's amusement. But when you were taken from the arena..."

Peeta plants a kiss on my temple as a sign of encouragement, urging me to continue.

I let go of his neck but grab his hands in mine, reveling in their warmth, "When I woke up in the hovercraft and you weren't there... I felt like life had ended. Like there was nothing else. I think that might have been the first time I realized that I loved you; when I couldn't protect you anymore. I wanted to come get you, Peeta. You have to know that. I wanted to come get you every single day, but they kept me drugged and sedated for weeks. I kept breaking down every time I woke up and realized you weren't there and you would never be there again. It took a long time for me to figure out how to function again, in a world where I assumed you no longer existed."

"Katniss..."

I shake my head so he will let me finish, "While we were in District 13, Annie and Finnick got married. It wasn't anything grand, but I don't think they cared about that. You could just tell by the look in Finnick's eyes that being able to call Annie his wife was more than he every dared to dream for. He was so happy and Annie was so happy, and I while I was happy _for_ them, I just felt..."

Peeta watches me intently now, his gaze soft and somewhat sad. He reaches his hand to my cheeks and then I realize I am crying again, silently this time. He wipes a stream of tears away before I catch his hand and hold it on my face. I close my eyes, leaning my face into his large hand, "I just felt _robbed_."

His brow furrows in confusion, "Why? You never wanted that."

I open my eyes and I feel as ragged as Peeta looks. Not just because of the crying, but because of everything. Life, war, pain, struggle. I can finally feel everything taking it's toll on me.

"I never wanted any of that until I met you, Peeta."

This time, it's Peeta who throws caution to the wind. He yanks me forward, crushing me into his chest and burying his face in my hair. Again, I allow myself this indulgence. I allow myself to feel happy and complete. Well, not entirely complete. It will probably always feel like there have been little holes cut into my heart from now on, after everything I have seen and done, but I feel as complete as I can feel.

I feel his body shake as he speaks, "If we make it out of here alive, I swear to you Katniss, I will ask you to marry me. Properly. No cameras, no gimmicks, no Snow. Just you and me."

I laugh without humor, "That might be hard if you're constantly trying to kill me."

Peeta freezes and he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on mine. "Promise that you won't give up on me, Katniss. I'm getting better, I can remember more things about you now and it's getting easier for me to distinguish between the truth and the lies the Capitol hijacked me with. I'm not saying that it won't take time, it may even take years, but I won't stop fighting if you don't. Please, promise me."

My heart feels heavy. Does Peeta know I plan to take out Snow and most likely myself in the process? Does he know I don't plan on leaving the Capitol in anything other than a body bag? For a brief moment, I let that thought go and replace it with one where we win the war and I get to go home with Peeta. Well, not our real home. District 12 is gone. But for me, home is now anywhere Peeta is. Could it really happen? Could we both really make it out of here alive?

The little voice in my head responds indignantly. Of course not. Neither Snow nor Coin would allow that.

Instead, I smile at Peeta and cup his cheek with my hand, "You could make the sun promise to never rise again, you know that?"

He does not smile, "Katniss. Promise me."

Outside the window, I can see the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. The sky is turning pink around the edges of the crumbling buildings outside. We will have to get moving soon.

"Peeta," his name is an invitation and he knows it. I lean in, my heart racing. I have never tried to kiss anyone like this before. There were the kisses in the arena with Peeta, but those were for the cameras. The few kisses I had with Gale were little more than consolation affection. This felt real.

My entire body seems to come alive as Peeta slides his hands up to my neck. He holds me gingerly, as if I'm made of tissue paper and the slightest movement will tear me. He's waiting. I look at him for a moment, surveying his undeniable beauty and I feel my heart break a little more. How could this creature be meant for me? No. No, what did Haymitch say? I could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve Peeta. Haymitch was right.

I imagine what having a life with Peeta after the war could be like. Getting married, having a small ceremony where our friends and few remaining loved ones congratulate us on our undeniable happiness. Finding a home somewhere where I could wake up every morning to Peeta's seraphic face smiling at me. Being pregnant with Peeta's child, for real, and seeing Peeta glow with happiness every time he sees my large, rounded belly. Growing old with Peeta, and watching our children grow up uninhibited by the fear of the Hunger Games.

Even if that future is so far away, so unattainable now, I smile. Just thinking of it makes me happy. I close my eyes and press my lips to Peeta's.

I intended for the first real kiss with Peeta to be affectionate and soft, but I am caught off-guard when my entire body seems to burst into flames. Flames that are licking hungrily at my skin. Instead of a gentle kiss, this time I crush Peeta's lips with mine, devouring his mouth. He does not resist, instead he grows eager. Peeta crushes my lips right back, his grip on the back on my neck tightening, not painfully, but protectively. His mouth opens slightly and I mimic him. Peeta tentatively touches my tongue with his but I can't resist, and seconds later I'm dipping, swirling, pirouetting my tongue in his mouth so I can taste him. I have to know. If I am going to die soon, I have to know what he tastes like. So I have something to hang on to at the end.

Peeta groans softly, "Katniss," he manages between my assaults on his mouth. "What are you doing?"

I stop for a moment, pressing my lips to his jawline. I'm growing bolder now. "Even if it's just once..." I kiss the corner of his mouth. "Even if I never get to kiss you like this again..." I'm back at his lips. "I had to know what it was really like. When it's real."

"I should kill you right now," Peeta whispers, his breath ragged as he lightly flexes his fingers around my neck. "Intinctively I know that. That's what the Capital programmed me to do."

"Yes. You should." I nod, placing a more delicate kiss on his lips. "You may never get another chance like this."

It may seem like I'm egging him on, but I would much rather be killed by Peeta than Snow or Coin any day. I can only imagine the tortures either of them have fantasized about for me.

He lets his hands drop to my waist, his eyes boring into mine with almost frightening intensity. It's obvious the playful banter about my imminent murder is over. "I'm still me right now, and as long as I'm me, I won't hurt you on purpose."

I sigh, kissing Peeta before standing up, "I know." I help Peeta to his feet as the sun begins to pour through the broken window. I begin to make my way towards our sleeping comrades when Peeta catches my hand. I turn back to see Peeta with the most heartbreaking look in his eyes. We can both tell the tracker jacker venom is taking over again.

"I love you, Katniss. No matter what happens, no matter what horrible things I may try to do to you, remember that I love you." He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, clearly fighting the venom. "Promise me, Katniss. Promise me..." He speaks through gritted teeth now. "...you won't give up on me."

Although I know it's risky, I place a kiss on Peeta's trembling lips one last time. This seems to ease him a little. "I love you, Peeta. I promise."

And I turn away to wake the rest of our team.

We have a President to kill.


	2. Chapter 1- The Boy with the Bread

**_*There was such a positive response to my one-shot "Goodbye, My Love" and many people asked if I was going to continue on with it, so I decided to! This is still the story of Katniss and the Hunger Games and the war, just more focused on the relationship between Peeta and Katniss. I'm sure as we go along, I will change many other things as well. Please review and enjoy!*_**

 ** _*I do not own The Hunger Games or any of it's wonderful characters. Suzanne Collins has that honor.*_**

* * *

 **Chapter 1- The Boy with the Bread**

* * *

 _It's cold outside today; I can even see my breath in the air. The rain hits my exposed skin in icy droplets, leaving what feels like freezing burns in their wake. My stomach aches and moans with hunger, and I can't even remember the last time I've eaten. Last week? Maybe before? What little food I manage to scavenge these days, I give to my useless mother and beautiful little sister. Daddy may be gone but as long as I'm around, they will never go hungry again._

 _But right now, it doesn't feel like I'm going to be around much longer._

 _My body, weak with hunger, collapsed against this tree over an hour ago and I can't seem to muster the energy to get up. I'm somewhere near the edge of the Seam, more near the center of town than the edge of it where my house is. Through the rain, I can see the front of the only bakery in town, owned by the Mellark's. They have three boys I think, one of them around my age. I've seen him around school sometimes, but he is always surrounded by people. I think he must be very popular. I am not but I don't care._

 _Right after I collapsed, I saw a small girl who could not have been more than seven sneak up to the bakery and rummage through their garbage cans. She actually came away with a few old pieces of bread, and as she left I saw her smile like she won the prize of a lifetime._

 _That goes to show how scarce food is for the poorest families here in the Seam._

 _I originally planned on scouring those garbage cans for myself as I had already found food for mother and Prim, but luckily my body was too weak to make it. That little girl probably needed the food more than I did anyway._

 _"You are so worthless, can't you even make a simple loaf of bread?!"_

 _I see a statuesque woman with a tight bun of golden blond hair shoving someone harshly out of the bakery's front door. A boy with the same shade of curly blond hair. He is the one that is in my class._

 _"What are you even good for?" She strikes him once, hard and fast, across his left cheekbone, but he never makes a sound. "Give that shit to the pigs. You can do_ that _, can't you?" She then turns and heads back into the bakery, slamming the door behind her._

 _The boy makes his way over to the pig pen, which is just out of sight of the bakery's front windows, before he turns to me. I manage to sit up a little. We stare at each other for a few moments before his eyes dart around to the front and the side of the bakery._

 _When he seems satisfied that no one is around, he comes over to me._

 _"Are you alright?" He asks me in a hushed voice, even though no one could possibly hear him in this rain. "You've been sitting here for a long time."_

 _Before I can answer, my stomach groans loudly. "Just tired," I mumble._

 _His light sapphire eyes take in my haggard appearance. He looks behind himself to the bakery one more time before handing me the bread that is burnt on one end, "Take this. It's all I have right now, but it should help."_

 _I take the bread tentatively. My voice feels small, feeble, "Why are you giving me this?"_

 _He looks confused at my question, "Aren't you hungry?"_

 _I nod a little._

 _He smiles, his teeth perfectly white and straight. Such a rarity in District 12. "That's why I'm giving it to you."_

 _I have never been good with gifts, and right now this bread was a very large gift. Without it…_

 _"Get back in here, you useless boy. We have orders to fill!" The statuesque woman shouts into the rain from the bakery. I hear the door slam shut again._

 _"I have to go," he says. "Please, eat that before you head home. You need it."_

 _I am going to thank him, I swear I am, but he runs back to the bakery before I can._

 _After he goes back inside, I do not see him again. I eat the bread slowly, savoring each bite. As I eat, I can feel my strength returning. Once the loaf is gone, I feel well enough to go home and make a meal for my mother and Prim out of the food I found earlier._

 _There are many things in this ragged life that I am uncertain about, but there is one thing I know to be true above all else. The boy with the bread saved my life today._

* * *

"Are you nervous this year?"

I look over at Gale, with his messy chocolate hair and angular nose. His face is set in a deep frown as he removes the feathers from one of the shockingly large birds we just caught. I suppose most girls would think he is handsome, but I don't see him that way. He's more like my brother; we grew up together and, after Daddy died, helped keep each other's families alive. I contemplate his question for a moment.

"Normally I would say no, but this is Prim's first year. What happens if she's Reaped?"

Gale chuckles humorlessly, his eyes never leaving the bird, "Your name is in there about 46 more times than hers. I wouldn't worry about that too much."

"Aren't you worried about Rory? It's his first year in the Reaping, too."

He shakes his head, "My name is in there 93 times. There is no way his name will get picked against those odds. And even if it did, I would just volunteer as tribute for him anyway."

I let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on my elbows in the sun, "Yeah, you're right. Even if Prim was chosen, I would just volunteer for her."

Gale grows still. I look over at him and see that his is staring at me. "Katniss…"

My eyebrows furrow, "What? You would rather let Prim, innocent little Prim, get slaughtered in the Hunger Games? No way in hell. She wouldn't last 5 minutes in one of those arenas. You know that as well as I do."

He resumes plucking the feathers, his voice low, "What would I do if you were Reaped, or you took Prim's place, and you were killed in the Hunger Games?"

I roll my eyes and punch Gale in the arm, "Shut up, Gale. You would keep living your life like you do right now. Nothing would be different, you just wouldn't have a hunting partner anymore."

He stops plucking again and turns to me, his eyes soft. I can feel myself bristle; I hate when he gets like this. I have known for a little while that Gale's feelings for me go a little deeper than brotherly affection, but I can't bring myself to return those feelings. And since I can't return them, I don't want to deal with them at all.

"Don't start," I warn, and he knows I can see the way he is looking at me. "Not today."

"Sorry," he mumbles, turning back to his bird.

We sit in the field for a while longer before the hovercrafts begin to appear near town. That is our sign that it's time to head back and get ready for the day to come. We walk silently through the vast field, carefully concealing our spoils behind our backs in case any Peacekeepers see us. Just when we reach the fence that is supposed to be electrified but never is, Gale stops me.

"Katniss, wait," his eyes are still soft and I sigh, resigned. It's clear that he will not let this drop today. "I just have one question for you and then I won't bring it up anymore today."

"Fine. One question," I concede, looking up at him. Our height differentials are staggering sometimes, considering I can remember when he was just as small as Prim.

His voice is gentle, "Why?"

"Why what?" I respond, anxiety creeping in. I know what he's asking, I just wish I didn't.

"Why don't you see me the way I see you? Why don't you feel the same way?"

I purse my lips indignantly, "That's two questions."

He frowns, displeased, "Katniss."

I sigh, resigned again, "Gale, it's not that simple. I honestly don't understand why you feel that way about me anyway. We're like siblings."

The setting sun glints off of his messy hair, gold specks dancing in the strands that blow in the light breeze. I can see why so many girls want him, I'm just not one of them.

Gale let out a long breath, looking at the blazing horizon, "Maybe once upon a time it was like that, but…" He turns to me, his eyes now on fire. "I used to be so annoyed with your stubbornness and your unwillingness to accept help from anyone. But then you changed. Once we started hunting together, we taught each other things. We learned to rely on each other. You have never accepted help from anyone in your entire life except for me. Doesn't that make me special?"

My heart skips a beat. I did accept help from someone once, long before Gale and I became friends. But I never told anyone about that for fear that _he_ would get in trouble.

"You are special to me, Gale. Just not in the way you want to be."

"I just don't understand, Katniss," he runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "We are perfect for each other. We already take care of each other families. We already spend every free moment we have with each other. We already know everything there is to know about each other. What more is there?"

I shift on my feet uncomfortably. Gale doesn't quite know _everything_. He doesn't know about the boy with the bread. "Gale…"

"No, listen to me Katniss. I want you to really hear me. You know I would take good care of you and your mother and Prim. I already treat them like they are part of my own family. The only reason your family isn't already living with us is because you were too stubborn to move out of your house after your dad died, even though our house is much bigger and sturdier. I would be the best husband to you. You would never want or need for anything with me. And nothing would really change anyway. Everything with us would be almost exactly the same as it is now, except…" He leans in towards me, placing his rough hand on the side of my neck. "I could do things like this."

And Gale firmly presses his lips to mine.

I have never been kissed before, but it is not quite what I expected it to be. From the stories my mother and father told me about how they fell in love, I expected a kiss to be all-consuming and full of fire, passion. I expected to melt and feel my knees buckle beneath me. I expected to feel many things.

But with Gale, I feel nothing.

I wish I could feel all of the things my mother and father felt for each other for Gale, because I know that's what he wants from me. But I just can't.

Instead, I can't help but wonder if the boy with the bread kisses the same way Gale does.

He pulls away from me, resting his forehead on mine, "Sorry. I know that was too much."

Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I smile, "It's okay. Maybe that will give us good luck for the Reaping tomorrow."

Gale smiles too, unaware of my indifference to his kiss, "If that's true, then we should repeat this tradition every year from now on."

Whoops, I didn't mean to give him quite that impression. I elbow his ribs playfully, "Yeah, yeah. Let's just see how this year goes before we start any annual traditions."

We make our way through the fence and then part ways at my front door. I wave goodbye to Gale before going inside to make dinner for my mother and Prim. Might as well make something good tonight; my small way of honoring the two poor families that will be sending their children off to the Hunger Games tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 2- The Reaping

**Chapter 2- The Reaping**

* * *

I finish tucking in the back of Prim's light gray shirt before I smooth and braid her pale blond hair in two delicate twin braids. She smiles up at me and I smile back. What a lovely girl. I am so lucky to call her my sister.

She runs her hands across her skirt before doing the same to her shirt, removing any remaining wrinkles from the pressed fabric. She then looks to me for confirmation, "How do I look?"

"Lovely, little duck. You look lovely," I assure her, smiling again.

Prim slips on her only pair of nice shoes, black and shiny, before turning to me, "What are you going to wear, Katniss?" She asks.

I realize now that I haven't really thought about it yet, and the Reaping is in less than 30 minutes, "I'm sure I can find something."

My mother comes into the room, her dark gray dress pressed and wrinkle-free just like Prim's. Her cornsilk blond hair is half up, pinned back behind her crown and falling in wavy tresses around her aging face. Sometimes I can still see why Daddy fell in love with her. Today is a good day for her.

"Katniss, I put something out for you to wear. It's on your bed," my mother says, her voice cracked from disuse.

"Okay," I manage. Brushing past her and into the room I share with Prim. The relationship with my mother is very tense; sometimes I am still so angry with her for sinking deep into depression after Daddy died. Other times, I think I might understand how she feels. But either way, I still have a lot of resentment towards her for abandoning my sister and I when we needed her. If it wasn't for my scavenging around town after Daddy died, my mother and Prim would have starved to death.

If it wasn't for the boy with the bread, I would have starved to death.

Since that day in the rain, I found myself thinking of the Mellark boy quite often. More often than I ever liked to admit, even to myself. After that day, I would look for him in school. I wanted to thank him, to ask him why he cared if I lived or died, but he was always surrounded by so many people. Boys _and_ girls. I didn't like that. You could tell by the looks on their faces that those girls had more than friendship on their mind. The Mellark boy never seemed to mind the attention.

I don the light blue dress my mother laid out for me and slip into my dusty black dress shoes. They aren't as nice as Prim's, but they will do. My mother comes in to help me braid and pin up my hair. We sit in silence.

The alarms sound and we know that it's time to make our way to the town square for the Reaping. Prim looks so incredibly fragile and nervous, so I take her hand and smile down at her. "I will make something extra special for you for dinner tonight, little duck. Just try to concentrate on that."

She nods but her grip on my hand tightens.

After we get to the town square and the Peacekeepers prick our fingers and smear the blood on a small card with our name, Prim is ushered to stand with the younger girls and I am forced to stand with the older ones. I have seen many of the girls around me hanging all over the Mellark boy at school. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they were reaped today.

I instantly feel guilty at the thought. No one deserves this.

I look over at the boys' section and easily spot Gale towering over most of the others. He catches my eye and gives me a single, solemn nod. We have been doing this for years and it is never easy to watch. As we get older, it only gets harder.

Effie Trinket strides onto the stage, her outfit as outlandish and ridiculous as always: dark plum pencil skirt and matching jacket with ungodly puffy shoulders. Her white blond hair has been teased and curled and teased and curled until it looks like a cloud on her head. Do people in the Capitol really think any of that looks good? I can't imagine.

She continues her usual speech about how the Hunger Games are our penance for the Rebellion of the districts and how we should be forever grateful to President Snow for giving us the opportunity to repent for our families sins. She says we should be proud if we are chosen as tributes and that whoever is chosen will undoubtedly bring honor to District 12. She says we are lucky.

By the look on all of our faces, I would say that none of us feel like we are very lucky today.

We then watch the same short film made by President Snow and the Capitol that describes the Rebellion and the consequences it had. It describes why the Hunger Games are a necessity now.

The film abruptly ends, like it always does, and Effie Trinket dabs her eyes a little too dramatically, "Lovely. Just lovely. Now, shall we begin?"

Here we go.

Effie Trinket's fashionably high black heels clack on the stone of the top step of the Justice Building as she walks over to the large glass bowl to her left. She swirls her hand around the almost overflowing bowl, grasping for a name written on a small white sheet of paper. I hope the girl chosen is no one I know. That makes it even harder.

She grabs a slip of paper and flourishes her hand from the bowl, once again, dramatically. With a large, ignorant smile on her plum lips, she looks at the paper and bends to the microphone.

"Primrose Everdeen!"  
I feel my heart sink. No. No. Gale said it wouldn't happen. He said it _couldn't_ happen. My name is in there 47 times. Her name is in there once. How? How was she chosen and not me?

"Come on up here dear," Effie Trinket coos. "That's right, no need to be shy."

I hear movement at the back of the crowd and I manage to turn to see four Peacekeepers escorting my beautiful, innocent, 12 year-old sister towards the Justice Building.

"No," my voice was small as I shoved through the crowd of girls toward the open aisle. "No. No. No."

When I reach the isle, Peacekeepers push my shoulders to keep me back, "No! NO! NO! NO!" I scream, thrashing out of their grasp to try and reach Prim. I manage to slip away from them and hug her tightly. "No, little duck. No." My voice is nothing but a whisper now.

"That's it," one Peacekeeper tells another, "stun her and take her away."

Just as the guard raises his taser to me, I shove Prim behind me and shout, "I volunteer as tribute!"

The Peacekeeper lowers his weapon and looks to Effie Trinket, who looks just as shocked. "W-well, well," she says, still surprised. "I believe District 12 has its very first volunteer. Come on up here, dear. Miss Primrose, you may return to your place in the back."

"No," Prim whispers to me, tears in her eyes. "Katniss, no!"

"Go," I urge her, my voice stern as I kiss her forehead. "Before they hurt you."

Thankfully, she does as I ask and returns to the crowd. The Peacekeepers then usher me up to where Effie Trinket stands. She hugs me softly, "Congratulations, dear. What an honor."

I don't feel like being congratulated. I feel nothing but horror. I am a tribute for the Hunger Games now. The odds are that I will die in the arena. The odds are that I will never see my family again.

Effie Trinket clacks over to the bowl on the right that holds the boys' names. She does the same swirling of her hand and theatrical flourish of the paper once she has chosen one. She looks down at the paper and bends to microphone again.

"Gale Hawthorne!"

I let my eyes shut for a brief moment to let this new wave of pain wash over me. Of course this would happen. Of course Gale would be chosen. I'm already in my own personal Hell, why not add to it? Not only do I have to die in the Hunger Games, but now Gale does too. This truly is my worst nightmare.

I watch Gale's somber face as he makes his way up to the stage before I hear a familiar voice cry out, "I volunteer as tribute for Gale!"

We all look up to see the Mellark boy from the bakery, the boy with the bread, the boy who saved my life, standing in the open aisle with a steely look on his face. Everyone is even more stunned than when I volunteered for Prim.

I take back what I said. _Now_ , this is my worst nightmare.

Effie Trinket claps her pale hands in delight, "Two volunteers in one Reaping! Oh my goodness, this is truly exciting! Come on up here, my boy. Gale, you may return to your place."

When the boy with the bread gets to the top of the stairs, Effie Trinket gives him a soft hug and asks him his name. She smiles at his answer and turns to the crowd in the square, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you your tributes for the 74th annual Hunger Games: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"

The crowd responds with nothing but subdued applause. Effie Trinket ushers us into the Justice Building to separate rooms where we wait for our families to come and say goodbye.

* * *

The goodbye to my mother is short and to the point. I urge her to understand the seriousness of the situation and that she must, no matter what, be there to take care of Prim not that I'm leaving. I assure her that Gale will help keep them alive.

The goodbye with Prim is horrible, as I knew it would be. She sobs brokenheartedly into my chest as I just rock her back and forth, stroking her hair. I know this hurts for her, but I would rather take her place than watch her die. She keeps asking me why this happened to us, but I can't give her a good answer. I just keep kissing the top of her head and trying to engrain the scent of her hair into my memory forever.

When Gale comes in, I slam into him, my chest tight.

He wraps his long arms around my back, "What the hell just happened out there?" He asks in disbelief.

I shake my head, tears forming, "I don't know. I don't know."

"Why did he volunteer for me? I don't even know him. I've never spoken to him a day in my life," Gale continues in shock, gripping me tighter. "How could this happen?"

"I don't know," I say again, my heart aching. "I'm so glad you don't have to come though."

But I was not glad that Peeta Mellark took his place. Not at all.

Gale pulls away from our embrace and grips my biceps, his eyes boring into mine, "You have to win, Katniss. I don't care if you have to slit Peeta Mellark's throat. You _win_ and you come home."

As soon as the words are out of Gale's mouth, I know I am as good as dead.

Because I realize that I will never, ever hurt Peeta Mellark.

* * *

I don't care about how fancy the train is that is taking us to the Capitol. I don't care that we are to, from now on, dress in the most luxurious clothes and have our own stylists and makeup artists. I don't care that we are only to eat the finest of fine foods. I don't care that we have Effie Trinket and Haymitch Abernathy to help mentor and guide us through the Games.

All I care about is Peeta.

Gale promised he would take care of my family and make sure they were well fed. He promised me that he would make Prim go to school and make my mother start practicing medicine again. He promised he would take care of himself as well. I know all three of them will be cared for.

But I cannot let anything happen to Peeta in that arena.

He saved my life once and now it's my turn to save his.

I have been dying to talk to him, to ask him why he volunteered for someone he doesn't know, has never met. But I am starting to get the feeling that Peeta is avoiding me on purpose. He takes meals by himself in a separate car and otherwise spends all of his time in his own room. I have not seen him since the Reaping.

It's dark outside now and I know that Haymitch is most likely drunk in his room and Effie is probably picking out her clothes for tomorrow somewhere, so it seems like a safe time to track Peeta down. Luckily, Effie gave me a full tour of the train before dinner so I know where everyone's rooms are. I tiptoe down the hallway in my bare feet to where I know Peeta is staying.

I knock on his door softly.

It's only a moment before the door glides open and I see Peeta standing before me. He's wearing dark blue pajama bottoms and a white, long-sleeve v-neck. His curly blond hair is disheveled, like he had been running his hands through it. Then I look at his face.

And nearly feel knocked breathless.

Peeta has a strong jaw, peppered with light blond stubble. His light sapphire eyes survey me from beneath thick, feathered lashes. His skin is an unmarred, creamy beige stretched tight over thick, broad muscles. He says something to me, but my eyes are locked on his perfect, lush pink lips. Before, when Gale kissed me, his wind-chapped lips just felt alien and wrong. I could not imagine Peeta's lips feeling that way at all.

Has he always been this handsome?

"Katniss?" I hear him say this time. "Are you alright? What's going on?"

I look up from his mouth and see the naked concern in his eyes and it makes me blush. Jesus, I'm acting like a silly little girl! I clear my throat once, annoyed at how this boy makes me feel just by looking at him, "Yeah, I'm fine. Do you have a second?"

He hesitates for a moment before he nods, "Sure. Come on in."

He makes room for me to come through the door so I do. Sitting on his bed feels intrusive, so I choose the small window seat instead. Peeta plops down on the bed and turns to me, "So what's up? Is everything okay?"

Instead of getting directly to the point, I blurt out, "Why weren't you at dinner?"

Peeta frowns, lines etching in his forehead, "I…"

"Are you avoiding me? Because that's sure what it seems like. I don't want be here any more than you do, so I don't see why we can't try to get along. I don't know what you have against me but͞ I can tell you right now that—"

"Whoa, whoa, Katniss. Slow down," Peeta interjects, holding his hands up. "One thing at a time!"

I blush again, "Sorry."

He sighs, "I'm not avoiding you, I promise. I just didn't want to invade your space in case you needed time to process all of this. I didn't want to force a friendship on you right now."

"T-that's why? That's…. all?"

He nods, "I promise."

We sit in silence for a moment before I remember the main reason why I came, "Why did you volunteer for Gale? He said he doesn't know you."

Peeta blushes a deep shade of scarlet and I am even more confused, "I…" He stops and looks up at me with a look in his eyes that I don't recognize. My pulse quickens. "I didn't want Gale to be chosen because I knew it would hurt you. I knew you could never kill your boyfriend to win the Games."

I'm taken aback. This is not the response I anticipated. "But Gale isn't…"

"It's okay," he interrupts me again. "Everyone in the Seam knows you guys are together. And I just didn't want you to have to deal with possibly losing him."

Panic is welling in my chest. Gale and I are not a couple, even though everyone in the Seam always called him my boyfriend. We just never really cared enough to correct people. But now, here, with Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread, telling me that _he_ thinks Gale is my boyfriend, I care.

"No, Peeta please," I stand up and start pacing around the room, frustrated. How can I make him understand? "Gale isn't… we're not… it's not like that between us. He's like my brother."

Peeta's sapphire eyes shifted again, something stirring behind them, "I always thought…"

"I know, I know. Everyone always thought that about us. We just never really cared what other people thought so we never corrected anyone. But it isn't like that."

"For you, maybe," he says softly.

My eyebrows shoot up and I freeze in place, "What?"

Peeta gave a sad smile, "Katniss, anyone with eyes can see how Gale feels about you."

I groan, slouching back onto the window seat, "Oh God, not you too!"

He looks at me quizzically.

"Everyone keeps trying to convince me that Gale is what's best for me. Gale, my mother, my little sister, all of Gale's family. Doesn't it matter what I want? Doesn't love count for anything anymore?" I can feel all of my pent up anger and frustration flowing out and I know it isn't fair to Peeta because none of this is his fault, but I can't help it.

Peeta comes over and kneels in front of me, "But Katniss, he _does_ love you."

I drop my head in my hands, already exhausted from the turn this conversation has taken, "But what about me? _I_ don't love _him_."

He is silent for a long time and I look up to see him watching me. His eyes are careful, reserved as he observes me. He looks wrong like this and I don't like it. I touch his face softly, "Peeta, what are you thinking?"

At the contact with my hand, Peeta jerks backwards like I burned him. I move back a little as well, a knee-jerk reaction from the obvious rejection of my touch. "I-I'm sorry, Peeta. I didn't…"

He bites his full lower lip for a moment before he looks back up at me, "I think you should go," his voice was gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument.

Unable to fathom what in the hell just happened, I stand up and walk out of Peeta's room without looking back. When I reach the end of the hallway and I hear his door slide shut, I fall to the floor and look at my hand. It still feels like there is electricity buzzing through it from where it made contact with Peeta's face.


	4. Chapter 3- Falling

***Hey guys! Please, keep the reviews coming; it fuels me! :) And if there is anything in particular you would like to see happen, I am always open to suggestions so please don't be shy. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 3- Falling**

* * *

Effie Trinket is delusional.

When we were reaped, or more accurately when we volunteered as tributes, Effie assured us the life of a tribute was one of grandeur. She told us we would be exposed to fine dining and dress, and that people would fawn over us and we would be treated like royalty.

I'm beginning to think that Effie Trinket is full of shit.

Since the Reaping, we have done nothing in the Tribute Center but spend time with Haymitch, who is incredibly surly when he's sober, go to stupid prerecorded TV interviews with Ceasar Flickerman, and train relentlessly with the other 22 tributes. Since we were instructed to show off as much as we could to the others, it's been a little exhausting. Peeta has been showcasing his strength each day, progressively throwing heavier and heavier objects. I have been showing off my archery skills.

But Peeta has not spoken to me since that night on the train. I have gone over that night again and again, and I cannot figure out what I did wrong.

It's starting to wear on me.

"You look like shit," Haymitch remarks casually at breakfast as he takes a swig of his flask. "The Games are only a week away, you should be getting enough sleep while you can."

My lack of sleep is wearing on temper and I grumble a few choice obscenities under my breath.

"Katniss!" Effie swats my arm. I guess she heard me.

I rub my forehead with my hand, "Sorry. I'm just exhausted."

For the first time since the train, Peeta addresses me, "Katniss, why don't you go lie down? You can just say you aren't feeling well enough for training today."

I am too in shock that he actually spoke to me to even respond. I simply stare at him.

Haymitch grunts in agreement, "I can tell the trainers you're sick. Just go get some sleep so maybe you can be in a better mood for your live interview tomorrow. Though I doubt sleep can affect your surly personality that much."

If looks could kill, Haymitch would be on the ground. But I do admit he's right. Tomorrow is the first and only live interview for each of the tributes and I have to be in a better mood for that if I want any chance at getting any sponsors for the Games. I push away from the table and trudge down the long hallway to my room. I'm not hungry anyway.

Once in my room, I collapse onto the bed. I have enough energy to grab the remote off my bedside table and push the button to turn the window to the night view of the Capitol, but that's it. The remote then drops out of my hand and onto the carpet somewhere. I am lying face down in the now dark room when I hear a gentle knock on my door.

I groan into the blankets, "Go _away_ , Effie. I am _not_ apologizing to Haymitch for what I called him. He deserved it."

I hear my door slide open and then shut quietly. Then the lock clicks.

I turn my head slowly, a bit perturbed about someone locking themselves in my room, and exhale with relief when I see that it's Peeta. "Jesus, Peeta. You scared the hell out of me. What are doing in here?"

He sits on the end of my bed with a concerned expression on his face, "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I just got in here three minutes before you did. I haven't had a chance yet," I know I am a little more snappy than usual, but I'm just _so tired_.

Peeta smiles a little, a single dimple appearing on his left cheek, "No, I mean why aren't you sleeping at night? What's wrong?"

I let out a long sigh as I roll over onto my back, "It's embarrassing."

"Try me," he smiles his perfect smile again.

Damn it. I can't resist that smile and I don't know why. "I'm used to sleeping with my sister. When I sleep alone…" I hesitate, wondering if he will laugh at me. "When I sleep alone, I have nightmares."

Peeta does not laugh at me. Instead, he takes one of my hands into his. I almost groan with how pleasant it feels; I didn't realize just how much I missed actual human contact. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have come in here with you. Or you could have come to sleep with me."

I prop myself up on my elbows but let him keep his hold on my hand. I can feel my anger bubbling up again, "You weren't exactly speaking to me, though I have no idea why."

His eyes grow soft, "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have reacted that way when you touched me."

The sting of his staunch rejection still lingers and I am still hurt by it. It annoys me because I am not a girl who cares if she gets rejected by a boy she only met once, "It's fine. I shouldn't have."

"No, Katniss, don't do that. Don't shut down. Listen to me, please," his voice is almost desperate and for some reason, I don't like it. I look up at his beautiful crystalline eyes and instantly feel lost in them.

Damn it! What the hell?

I look away and chew my bottom lip a little, "Okay, I'm listening."

"Did you feel it, Katniss?" He asks, his voice full of some emotion I don't recognize.

I'm confused, "Feel what?"

Peeta intertwines our fingers and my eyes widen. He pulls our clasped hands up to his face and presses his lips to the back of my hand and I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head. "When you touched me that day on the train, did you feel what I felt? It was like there was…"

"Electricity," I whisper. I _did_ feel it that day and it knocked me to my knees. Never once, in all the years that I had been around Gale, did I ever feel anything of that magnitude with him. Not even close.

 _That_ was the spark my mother and father told me about so many years ago.

"But why did you… why were you so upset? If you felt the same thing?" I ask, afraid of being on the receiving end of his rejection again. I never cared about boys before, after all Gale was the only male in my life at all. But with Peeta, things feel different. And it is terrifying.

"Katniss," Peeta closes his eyes and kisses my hand again, "do you think it's wise for us to feel these things for each other in this situation? There is only ever one victor for the Games. One. Why make it hurt any more than it has to? I never want you to hurt, ever. That's why I volunteered for Gale. I only ever want you to be happy."

I can feel my hand beginning to sweat. His words, these emotions, are foreign to me and I don't know how to handle them, "How long have you felt this way?"

He opens his mesmerizing eyes and they lock onto mine, "Since before the bread."

Before the bread? But I had never met him before then. Before then, I was just a girl scavenging for food so her family wouldn't starve. I hardly even went to school in the days after Daddy died. I spent all my time taking care of them. How could he have felt this way about me for so long?

Seeming to sense my thoughts, Peeta answers against my hand, "I am very observant."

"I…" I am at a loss. I knew, since the day he gave me the bread, that I was intrigued by him. Maybe a little obsessed with him, even. I just could never figure out why he helped me that day. Now it made more sense.

"It's okay," he assures me, letting my hand go. "You don't have to say anything and you certainly don't have to pretend to reciprocate my feelings. I just wanted you to understand why I acted that way. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Katniss. I'm sorry."

I straighten my back defiantly, "You didn't hurt my feelings. I'm fine."

He laughs a little, the sound enveloping me, "Of course not. My mistake."

"But I appreciate the explanation," I add, a little sheepishly. I would never admit to him that he bruised my ego, but he definitely did.

Peeta stands up, "Well I should let you get some rest. Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

No. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

He stares at me for a moment, clearly not believing me. "Are you sure?"

No. I want you to stay so I can sleep. "Yes, Peeta. I'm sure."

Peeta gets to the door before he turns back to me, a smile spread across his lovely face, "You're a terrible liar, do you know that?"

I cross my arms over my chest, "I… may have been told that once or twice in my life."

"You could ask me to stay."

"You could offer."

"Do you have a problem with asking?"

"Do you have a problem with offering?"

He looks at me incredulously for a moment before he breaks into laughter. This is the first time I have ever heard Peeta laugh a real laugh, out loud, and oh Lord is it a glorious sound. "You are something, you know that?" He leans against the door, still smiling. "Katniss, I would be more than happy to stay with you so you can sleep."

I narrow my eyes, suddenly angry at his mocking, "You're laughing at me. I'm not a little kid, Peeta. Get out."

Peeta walks back over to me and, like on the train, he kneels in front of me. This time, he takes my right hand in his and he places his other hand on my face. His thumb traces the dark circles under my eye and all traces of laughter are gone from his face. "Katniss, you look exhausted. We only have a week left until the Games and we have live interviews tomorrow. You _need_ to get some rest. Let me stay with you so you can sleep. Just for now. If you want to be alone tonight, that's fine. Just let me do this for you."

The utter sincerity in his voice would have knocked me off my feet if I had been standing. His light sapphire eyes were burning into mine and I felt my anger melt away. I really do need sleep, I can feel my body sagging under the weight of my exhaustion. I give a small nod, fighting the urge to deny any help offered to me, "Okay."

Peeta pulls back the sheets on the bed so I can climb in. He pulls them around me but stops when he sees that I'm not lying down. "What's wrong?"

A blush spreads across my cheeks, "I don't usually sleep in a bed by myself."

He smiles in understanding and goes to the opposite side of the large bed. Peeta then hesitates and clears his throat, "Above the covers or…?"

This time, I laugh. I pull back the blankets for him and he slides onto the bed with me. Once the blankets are wrapped around us, I burrow into Peeta's side and wrap my arm around his waist, resting my head against his chest. He wraps his left arm around my shoulders and I feel him relax. Almost instantly, I can feel sleep dragging me under. Just as my eyelids are getting too heavy to keep open, I feel Peeta press a kiss to the top of my head.

* * *

 _Daddy kisses my forehead and then kisses Prim's. Momma gets a kiss last, but she gets one right on the lips. Gross!_

 _"You girls be good for your mom, get to school on time, and have a good day. I'll see you when I get home from the mines and you can tell me all about what you did today!" Daddy says as he open the door. "I love you girls."_

 _"Love you Daddy!" I coo, giving him one last hug before he leaves._

 _"Love you Daddy!" Prim echoes, throwing her arms around Daddy and me._

 _"I love you, sweetheart," momma smiles, kissing Daddy's cheek and handing him a bag with his lunch in it. "See you tonight."_

 _And Daddy leaves for work._

 _We did all the things we usually do; help momma with breakfast, scrub ourselves clean in the washtub, put on our best dresses and head to school. School is boring, like always. I just can't wait to get home and see Daddy!_

 _There are a lot of people standing outside when school is over. A lot of my friends are with their mommas on the road, crying into their skirts. I can smell smoke somewhere. Was there a fire? Is that why everyone is sad? Did someone get hurt?_

 _Prim sings a song on the way home, but I can't sing with her today. I feel scared. Too many people are crying today._

 _When we get home from school, Momma is sitting outside in front of the house. She's all curled up, wrapped in a blanket that Daddy always uses with no shoes on even though it's cold outside. Her hair looks like someone has been pulling it and she has deep red scratches on her cheeks that are still bleeding. She has been crying too._

" _Momma?" I shake her, barely holding back tears. "Momma, what's wrong? Are you okay?"_

 _Her eyes don't see me or Prim. I don't know what she's looking at, but it must be very far away. She doesn't answer me, she just keeps staring into the air._

 _Whatever is wrong with Momma, I have to be strong for my sister. I fight back my tears. "Stay here with Momma, Prim. I'll be right back."_

 _Prim nods and sits at Momma's feet, putting her head on Momma's lap._

 _I go inside to get some shoes for Momma but when I get inside, the smell almost makes me sick. I recognize it from when Momma burned her arm on the kettle last year. It's the smell of burnt skin. I see a large man sitting at the table, hunched over and covered in black soot. His skin is black and red, with large pieces falling off and onto the floor with a slick slapping sound. Some of the bones in the man's back are showing through the missing chunks of skin. He isn't bleeding though, he's been burned too much. I remember Momma telling me that if fire is hot enough, you can get burned and not bleed. The man has been burned so much I don't even know where his skin begins._

" _Katniss," the person at the table moans with a cracked voice. "Katniss, baby, Daddy's home."_

 _I'm too scared to move. This can't be my Daddy! Daddy never gets hurt at work. He works in a safe part of the mine, he told me that. He told me no accidents happen where he works._

 _But I know it's him. I know why everyone was crying._

 _"D-daddy?" I feel a few tears drip down my cheeks._

 _The man who is falling apart stands up, leaving pieces of burnt skin stuck to the chair, and turns to me. I see what used to be Daddy's face, only now a lot of it is either missing or on the floor and what's left is burned so bad I can hardly tell it's him. He smiles and most of his teeth are broken. Both of his eyes are red like blood. As he moves towards me and another chunk of his face falls off._

" _Give Daddy a hug, Katniss," he says through black lips, holding his ruined arms out to me._

 _I run out of the house screaming._

* * *

"Katniss?! Katniss?!"

Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a familiar voice. He's calling my name but I can't reach him. I'm trapped in the dark, my arms wrapped around my chest to hold myself together. I can feel how hard I'm sobbing, but I can't stop. Daddy is gone. He's dead. I will never see him again.

Someone is shaking me. Hard. "Katniss, wake up. Please, baby, wake up. It's only a dream! You're having a dream!"

A dream? Daddy isn't dead? No… he _is_ dead. But he isn't falling apart? No, that's not how it happened. He didn't die that way. It happened very fast. Painless. Daddy is in a better place than the mines of District 12 now.

"Katniss, _please_."

He sounds so sad, but I don't want him to be. He didn't have to see the things I saw.

Somehow, I pry my eyes open but I can only see white, "Am I dead?"

I feel him exhale with relief and something brush against my hair. His mouth? "No, Katniss. You were just having a nightmare. I'm still right here."

I look up from the shirt my face is plastered against and see Peeta's seraphic face looking down at me. His eyes are wide now and full of concern. "Katniss? Are you alright?"

Of course I am. I feel fine now that I'm awake. Why is he asking me this?

He wipe something from my cheeks, "You're still crying."

Now I realize that the shaking I can still feel is the fierce sobs wracking through me. I pull myself closer to him and try my best to draw in a few deep breaths. It was just a dream, nothing more. It was just a dream, the same one I've had a million times. It was just a dream.

Peeta rests his cheek on the top of my head, "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks.

I shake my head vigorously, the tears and terror finally fading, "Not this time."

"Okay," he agrees. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to bring you some food? You've been out for a few hours now."

I shake my head again, my eyes already heavy, "I'm still tired. Just don't let me go."

"Never," he promises softly.

"Stay with me," my words sound garbled by the exhaustion threatening to pull me into darkness.

Just before I fall asleep on his chest again, I hear Peeta's voice once more, "Always."

* * *

This time when I wake up, Peeta is sound asleep. I'm still lying on his chest and I have such a death grip on his waist that my arm muscles are screaming in protest. The clock on the bedside table reads 3:34am.

Reluctantly, I let go of Peeta to flex my arm and my fingers. At the loss of my grip, Peeta simply mumbles something unintelligible and unconsciously turns his head towards me. For the first time, I'm actually alone with him and he is completely asleep. I can finally do what I've been dying to since the day he became the boy with the bread.

I hesitate for a moment before I reach out to trace his face. I run my fingers across his forehead, brushing his silky blond curls to the side. My fingertips run down his nose, across his eyelids, and over his full lips. I want to memorize every line of his face; if I am the one to make it home from the Games, I want to remember this forever. And if I'm not, I at least want to have done this once.

Peeta's eyes snap open and he grabs my wrist, stilling my hand. When he finds my eyes, he looks… sad? "Katniss…" His voice is soft but chiding. "What are you doing?"

I don't really have an answer. We don't know each other; we have never really spoken until we were Reaped, unless you count the incident with the bread but even that was years ago. I don't know why I wanted to touch him, to remember his face. I know I want to repay him for saving my life, but we aren't in the arena yet. I don't owe him anything here.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. I have never felt this way about anyone or anything before, so I'm unsure of how to deal with it. Gale was just my friend, my brother in a way. But Peeta… he feels like something more.

His light sapphire eyes burned into mine, "Please, Katniss. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

I am usually a very practical person, always trying to choose the steadiest path in the life for myself and my family. Growing up poor and starving in the Seam will do that to you. All I wanted my entire life was stability. And yet here I am, a tribute for the Hunger Games. My future is now as unstable and uncertain as it could possibly get.

But if I have _any_ say in Peeta's future, he will have a very long life back in District 12.

Peeta continues to watch me, his fingers around my wrist. My fingertips are still pressed against his cheek.

The wheels in my head begin to turn. I have an idea.

"Our live interviews are today, right?"

He nods, confused at the abrupt change in subject, "Yes. They go by district number, so we'll be last."

I take my hand back and braid my hair sloppily. I always think better when my hair is braided, "I think we should act like we're in love. Not a couple, but in love."

Peeta doesn't hide his shock, "What?"

The ideas are hitting me rapidly now. This is the way to save Peeta's life. "You will have your interview before me, so when Ceaser Flickerman inevitably asks you if you have a girlfriend back home, you should tell them that you're in love with someone. He'll probably dig for more details, so don't come right out and say it's me. Just dance around it and give hints until they can all figure it out for themselves. Then, if he asks if it's me, just go for it."

"I don't understand. Why?"

I feel almost giddy at the possibilities now, "Don't you _see_?! If we play up this angle, we can get more sponsors. And more sponsors almost always means winning!"

He smiles widely and cups my face with his large hands, his eyes sparkling, "Katniss, you're a genius!" Before I know what's happening, Peeta presses his lips softly against mine.

And I'm on fire.

It's as if I was living in a world of black and white and suddenly everything is bursting with color. Stars seem to be exploding behind my eyes. Every part of me is burning. My hands wind into Peeta's hair and my fingers entangle themselves into the silken curls. I weld myself to him, pressing my body desperately against his. I _have_ to feel him, to know this is real. I've never felt like this before, certainly not when Gale kissed me outside the fence of 12. I can't breathe but that doesn't matter. My lips move against Peeta's, my tongue venturing out to taste his lips. His mouth tastes like mint and something else uniquely Peeta and I'm dizzy. I can feel his hands on me and I feel like I'm drowning. Drowning and burning at the same time, who knew?

Peeta pulls away from me, both of us panting, "Damn it, Katniss," he huffs, his breathing ragged. He rests his forehead against mine. "What the hell are we doing?"

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and smile, more to myself than anything, "If we're going to convince the Capitol that we're in love, we should have practice."

He looks at me for a long moment before shakes his head and sighs in resignation, "If the Games don't kill me, you certainly will."

I can't bring myself to smile or laugh this time.

Peeta can't know that I'm starting to feel things for him. He can never, ever know.

Because he will be going back to District 12 as a victor. Without me.


	5. Chapter 4- Plans

***Sorry for the delay; I've reworked this chapter about a hundred times! Enjoy and please let me know what you think!***

* * *

Chapter 4- Plans

* * *

I've probably been sitting in this stylist chair for over three hours now and if tonight wasn't so vitally important to my overall plan, I would have pitched a proper fit. Growing up poor and starving in the Seam, I've never been one for pageantry. But tonight I have to make Panem swoon.

Flavius, Venia, and Octavia work on me tirelessly, their constant chatter never ceasing. I don't care that they've plastered my face in 9 pounds of makeup or that they've probably used over a hundred pins on the elaborate, elegant style of my hair. All I care about is the final result and that it's up to the grand vision I have in my head. This is a night to enthrall.

Cinna walks in and as usual, I am impressed. His dark mocha skin is perfectly unmarred by the ever-popular Capitol tattoos and his silky black hair is cropped neat and short. The only inkling that he even lives in the Capitol comes from the thin line of shimmering gold eyeliner that rims his large chocolate eyes. Without that, he looks just like anyone else from one of the higher Districts.

Just one of the many things I like about Cinna. Never too flashy.

"Katniss," he purrs, placing a swift kiss on both my cheeks. "My muse. How are you feeling about the interview? Nervous?"

Between the flurry of fingers working on my face, I manage to give a small nod, "A little. All of the other interviews were prerecorded and edited before they were broadcast. If I mess up, everyone in Panem will see."

And I can't mess up. Not tonight.

Cinna gives me a small smile, "Understandable. All you have to do is just be yourself… although maybe smile a little more?"

A chuckle escapes my lips, "I'll try to remember that."

He observes the stylists working on me for a moment before a deep frown sets on his face. He moves quickly forward, shooing away Flavius, Venia, and Octavia with irritated hands, "What have you done to her? Christ, she looks 40 years old. Have I taught you nothing?"

Venia frowns, unhappy with the critical assessment of her work, "I thought maturing her would help the audience relate to her more."

Cinna gives an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "Do you not remember the conversation we had this morning? We are going for innocent and sweet this year. We need her to look like a pure, delicate rose. We need women to fawn over her looks and men to fall in love with her. We want the deepest pockets in the Capitol fighting to sponsor such a lovely girl. Caking her with makeup and blacking her eyes in not the way to achieve that."

Octavia contemplates this for a moment, "So when the tributes are presented to the masses on their chariots the night before the Games, District 12's outfits will reflect this innocent look? No black or coal this year?"

"Oh, I will most certainly be incorporating coal mining into their outfits for the parade, just not in the way we usually do. We are going for a softer approach this year."

I manage to lean over and get a look at myself in the mirror and immediately agree with Cinna. My eyes are rimmed in a deep black with smoky shadow going almost to my overly-defined eyebrows. The stylists coated my lips in a deep crimson and pinned my widely curled hair entirely to the back of my head. He's right; I look much too intimidating this way.

Cinna grabs a floral scented wet-wipe and proceeds to remove all traces of makeup from my face. He then takes me to a small sink and instructs me to wash everything else off. Once I'm done, I sit back in the chair as Flavius, Venia, and Octavia remove the pins from my hair in a flurry.

"Wait," Cinna stops them after a few minutes. They had begun at the base of my scalp and were now getting ready to remove the final pins from my crown. "If we just tweak this a little, I believe we can make it work."

He fluffs the top of my hair a little to give it a little more volume before re-tucking the rest into the pins that remain. Cinna then runs his large hands through my hair over and over, loosening the curls he deemed wound too tight. When he finishes, the hair at the sides of my head is the only part pinned back. The rest of my hair falls loosely, more in waves than curls, from under the pins and across my shoulders. The half pinned-up look is much more youthful than before.

"Now, do her makeup again. And this time," Cinna turns with an uncharacteristically harsh look on his face, "do it right."

This time, I'm only subjected to the stylists' torture for an hour. They decide to keep my skin fresh with only a hint of light eyeshadow on my lids and a dusting of peach gloss on my mouth. Thankfully, my stylists only artificially enhance me in one way: false eyelashes. Each of them continually assure me, and themselves it seems, that false eyelashes will make my eyes appear bigger and wider. Venia says it will help with the 'innocent' look.

With only an hour before the interviews begin, I have no choice but to trust them.

Cinna comes back in, this time with a long garment bag in his hands. His face instantly lights up when he sees me, "Katniss, you look wonderful! That is exactly what I was hoping for the first time. You will knock everyone dead."

I can't help but smile back. I like Cinna. "That's the idea."

He shoos away the stylists once more before presenting me with the garment bag, "Usually I just pull something off the racks for my tributes, but not this year. This year…" He slides the zipper gently, revealing a delicate looking peach fabric. "I decided to make something for mine."

My hand grazes the fabric; it's soft like the silk I felt once in the Hob back home. At my touch, the dress seems to shimmer like waves of the lake in the wind. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, emotion swelling in my chest, "Cinna…" It was perfect.

"Let's get it on you."

One more thing I like about Cinna, he isn't one to mince words.

I stand up obediently and tug at the belt of my robe before I let it fall onto the stylist chair. After being naked in front of my team so many times, I am long past the point of caring anymore.

Small hands wrap a strapless bra around my chest and hook it in the back. Cinna motions for me to raise my arms and I do as he asks. The dress, made exclusively for me, slides onto my body effortlessly and molds to me like a second skin. The sweetheart neckline of the dress shows only a slight bit of cleavage and the shoulder fabric hangs, bunching and resting against my biceps, leaving the skin of my collarbone fully exposed. It has a high empire waist to accentuate my frame and the rest of the silk hangs to just above my knees.

Paired with my hair and makeup, I don't even look like myself. I look stunning.

"Cinna," I manage through the shock. "I look… I look…"

He put his hands on my shoulders and rested his chin on the top of my head. There is a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, "You look like a princess."

All I can do is nod in agreement.

"Flavius, Venia, and Octavia, I can take it from here. You may go."

I completely forgot they were even here. I turn to thank them for their help, but all three simply slip out a back doorway before I can even get a word out.

"Cinna," my voice is quieter now. "Do you really think this will work? Can we really convince people we're in love?"

He kneels down to help me into a sexy looking pair of high heels that strap around my ankle, "I do. Haymitch seemed to have all the confidence in the world in you two as well. Are you doubting yourself now?"

I step into the shoes and let Cinna buckle them, "No… I don't know… maybe. We just really need this to work."

He stands and fluffs my hair a little more before turning me back to face the mirror, "This is life and death on the line, Katniss. I'd be concerned if you _weren't_ nervous. Just do your best so that way, in the end, you will know that you did everything you could."

Cinna's words reinstate the steel in my spine. I straighten myself and lift my chin in confidence, my gray eyes bright with determination. He's right, it is life and death on the line.

Just not mine.

* * *

 _It's 5 in the morning and everyone is sound asleep._

 _Well, almost everyone._

 _After telling Peeta my new plan for the interviews, and the amazing kiss that followed, we had fallen asleep together again. I had been burrowed in his side for two hours, gripping him like my life depended on it, when I heard someone roaming around the hallway outside my room. At 5 in the morning, there was only one person it could be._

 _I slip out of the bed, leaving Peeta's strong arms bereft and empty. He mumbles something unintelligible before rolling over and promptly falling back asleep. Careful to make a little noise as possible, I tiptoe to the door and into the hallway. As I knew I would, I see Haymitch trudging down the hall to the dining area._

 _"Haymitch!" I whisper, attempting to job somewhat quietly to catch up to him. "Haymitch!"_

 _He turns around, his gray Seam eyes-surprisingly-sober and full of confusion, "What are you doing up so early?"_

 _I can tell he's thinking I'm going to scold him for looking for a drink so early but I have other things on my mind, "I need to talk to you about our game plan going forward."_

 _Haymitch laughs a little condescendingly, "Oh, ho, ho, is that so? You never cared about my input before, so why start now?" He turns toward the drink cart again, content with ignoring me._

 _I grab his shoulder roughly and pull him back to face me, "Damn it, Haymitch I'm serious!"_

 _He looks down at my hand gripping his shoulder and a single eyebrow raises as he looks back to me, "Well now, sweetheart, I'm intrigued."_

 _"Good. Then sit down and shut up until I'm done talking."_

 _Although he looks like he'd like to slap me, or maybe say something else snarky, Haymitch does as I ask and sits at one of the dining room tables. "I'm listening."_

 _"I've been thinking about the Games and the people who sponsor tributes," I begin, pacing around the room. "And I think I've come up with an angle that we can manipulate to get sponsors."_

 _Haymitch remains silent._

 _"We are the same age, Peeta and I. Tributes from the same District. A District no one ever cares about. I think we should play up the love angle."_

 _I pause, waiting for a reaction from our mentor but he continues to remain silent. Good, I have his attention._

 _"If there is one thing I know about the Games, it's that the people in the Capitol love a good show. They love anything with drama. What's more dramatic than two tributes for the Hunger Games being in love and ultimately, unable to be together?"  
He nods a little, "Go on."_

 _I can feel the excitement building again, just like it did when I told Peeta my plan just a few hours ago. "We only have 6 days until the Games, but we can milk those days for all they are worth. Starting with the live interviews today."_

 _"I like this idea," Haymitch concedes. "It will most definitely get you both sponsors if you play your cards right. What is your plan for implementation?"_

 _I sit in the chair next to him, "We can start with the live interviews. Peeta will go before me, so he can talk about a girl from District 12 that he's in love with and blah blah blah. Then, when it's my turn and everyone can tell he was talking about me, I can shyly admit that I have feelings for him too. And BOOM!" My hand smacks the table with a little more force than I anticipated. "We become the star-crossed lovers from District 12. Doomed to misery."_

 _"And after that?"_

 _"We spend every waking moment together. Eating, sleeping, training, interviews, the chariot parade. And every moment we are together, we act absolutely, head-over-heels, crazy in love."_

 _Haymitch it quiet for a moment, his eyes on my face before a wide smile breaks across his lips, "The Capitol will eat that up with a spoon and beg for more."_

 _I smile right back, "That's the idea."_

 _His smile falters, "Just be aware that everyone will see this. Everyone from the Capitol to District 12. If either of you really_ do _have someone back home, you need to know that they will believe it's real too. Is that going to be a problem?"_

 _"No," I answer immediately. "There is no one else for me back home."_

 _"No one… else?" Haymitch seems to weigh those words on his tongue, eyeing me skeptically. "And for Peeta?"_

 _I fight to suppress a blush as I answer a little too quickly, "There is no one else for him, either."_

 _He continues to stare at me with his dark gray eyes, "You better be sure about that. But as long as Peeta's on board, then I am too."_

 _Fighting the anxiety that accompanied Haymitch's skeptical gaze, I push away from the table and head back to my room, "Then I'll see you at breakfast," I call over my shoulder. "Don't be too drunk."_

 _Once at my bedroom door, I turn back just in time to see Haymitch drop his head into his hands._

* * *

All 24 of us are standing in a single file line outside the entrance to the stage where our interviews will be conducted. Live. In front of all of Panem. With actual Capitolites in the audience five feet away.

Ugh.

The ridiculous shoes that Cinna put me in are going to kill my feet by the end of this, but I just keep repeating his words over and over in my head: _'It's all in the presentation'_.

On the monitors in the hall, we can see Caesar Flickerman with his ridiculous royal blue hair and matching royal blue eyebrows welcome the audience and thank them for coming out for such an exciting event. He assures them they have never seen a group of tributes like us before. He promises them the Games of a lifetime.

He truly has no idea.

I chew on my bottom lip nervously, forgetting that I'm wearing lipgloss, and start to shift nervously from foot to foot. They are already starting to hurt; stupid heels.

Peeta turns around and grabs my hand to steady me, smiling. His perfect, somewhat crooked smile blankets me like a wave of calm and I instantly relax. Damn it. "If you keep that up, you're going to ruin your makeup," he whispers, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. "And that would be a shame because you look so beautiful."

An involuntary blush spreads across my cheeks. DAMN IT. "I'm just nervous. I don't know how to make people like me."

He cups my cheek with his large calloused hand, "Katniss, all you have to do is just be yourself. Everyone will love you."

There is an familiar flutter in my chest and I desperately fight it back, "Not everyone sees what you see, Peeta."

"Maybe not," he presses his lips to my cheek before he whispers in my ear, "but they will."

My thoughts are screaming at me and the fluttering in my chest. _Not real. Not real. None of this is real. Remember that, idiot. None of it is real._

I simply smile in response when Peeta pulls away.

* * *

 _By the time I wake up, the black-out on my large bedroom window has been removed and the sun in shining freely onto the bed. Even with bleary, sleep-crusted eyes I can tell that Peeta isn't here. I push myself up to see that the clock on the bedside table reads 8:15am. I fall back against the mattress and sigh. I should probably get to breakfast with everyone else before I get scolded for being antisocial again. I then remember that I told Haymitch about my plans for the interview today a few hours ago. I'm sure he'll want to talk strategy this morning._

 _I manage to drag myself from the ridiculously comfortable bed and throw on the simple green bathrobe I found on our first day here. With a multitude of yawns, I trudge from down the hall towards the dining room but come to a dead stop when I hear hushed voices coming from the table._

 _"I don't know. We need to talk about this," Haymitch's raspy voice says. He takes a drink of something, though I can guess what, before he continues. "It will definitely get you guys sponsors but..."_

 _"But what?" I hear Peeta ask. "Her idea is brilliant. What's the problem?"_

 _"Are you sure that you can keep this charade separate from real life?"_

 _There is a long moment of silence._

 _Haymitch speaks again, "See? You already know what I'm talking about. I saw that same look in her eyes when she told me she didn't have a boyfriend back in 12. The look that says there_ is _someone, but not back home."_

 _Peeta's voice is even more muted now, "We are both well aware of the consequences, Haymitch. We both know that in the best case scenario, only one of us is getting out of that arena alive."_

 _"And if it comes down to the two of you, what then?"_

 _"I..." Peeta stops and I can imagine him chewing his bottom lip like I do. "I'm not sure. I hadn't considered that."_

 _"That's a problem. Forget the 'fake' romance for a second and let's think about this realistically. If it comes down to you and Katniss as the only two tributes left, neither of you will kill the other. Then what? The Gamemakers would never let you two out alive. The Games are about survival of the fittest, Peeta. And when it comes to survival, Katniss has you beat. So if it ends with you and her, and you aren't willing to kill her, will she be able to kill you? Especially after 'pretending' to be in love with you? If the answer is no, then I can almost guarantee that both of you are dead."_

 _My back hits the hallway wall and I slide down to the floor. I had been so wrapped up in my plans for getting sponsors to save Peeta that I never even considered that it may come down to the two of us in the end. Haymitch is right; if neither of us can kill the other, the Gamemakers will certainly take care of that issue for us._

 _"It's hard enough to kill the other tribute from your home District already, but adding feelings into the mix is a deadly combination."_

 _Finally, Peeta speaks, but his voice is harsher than usual, "It isn't real, Haymitch. That's the point I'm trying to make. This entire thing will be exactly as you said- a charade to get the sponsors to open their wallets. I'm not in love with Katniss and she doesn't have feelings for me either. Don't read into things that aren't there because you're making this much more complicated than it needs to be. She had a good idea; as our mentor, you should be milking it for all it's worth."_

 _I hear Haymitch take another drink before setting his glass down, "Alright. So operating under the assumption that I believe you aren't in love with her, then I have a few ground rules. If we are going to do this, we are going to do it my way."_

 _"Fair enough."_

 _"Rule number one: when it comes to your emotions, you separate your real self from the charade as much as possible. Under no circumstances are you to develop actual feelings for Katniss. If you do, I'm pulling the plug on this whole thing and you two are on your own."_

 _Peeta says nothing but I assume he nods._

 _"Rule number two: I don't just want you to act like you're in love in public. You need to act that way here too. I want the PDA to border on indecent; like you are fully aware that the next six days together might be your last. I want even Effie to believe this is real. If you can't do that, you two are on your own."_

 _Again, Peeta does not say anything._

 _I can hear someone's fingers drumming on the table, "Rule number three: whatever you have going on with Katniss right now, and don't argue with me because I know there is something, keep it going no matter what it takes. If we're going to do this, we're going to make it as convincing as possible. If you can't make it convincing, you two are on your own. Are we clear?"_

 _"We are."_

 _"Good, then we're done and I can finally drink."_

 _"Wait," I can hear Peeta snatch the crystal bourbon pitcher and set it back on the table. "I'm just confused about one thing. You just said that mixing feelings with the Games is dangerous. If you really do want us to keep our real emotions separate from this act, why the second two rules? Why risk it becoming real? Why not just act over the top in love in public and then separate ourselves in private? It doesn't make sense."_

 _"Truth be told, the whole 'spending every waking second together' was Katniss' idea, not mine. I don't even think she was thinking about the possibility of it becoming complicated, she was just excited about her plan to get sponsors. Like you, at first I didn't think it was a good idea. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense," Haymitch sighs. "Katniss is... a fighter. She's built for survival. I have no doubt that in the arena, she will be just as ruthless and formidable as the Careers. But when it comes to her emotions, she's a walking bleeding heart. I may be a drunk, but even I know how hard she's worked in 12 to feed her family and save them from starvation. And it's no secret that she hunted for Gale's family and for Greasy Sae at the Hob as well. She cares about people and she doesn't know how to separate herself from that. Her survival skills are an asset, but her emotions are a liability. A big one. Not to mention that she is a terrible actress; you saw her at those prerecorded interviews, she was a train wreck! She's only convincing when she's real."_

 _There is another long moment of silence before Peeta speaks, "So you want me to lead her on. You want me to make her fall in love with me for real."_

 _"I don't see any other option."_

 _"You're unbelievable," the disgust in Peeta's voice is palpable. "You want me to lie to her! You want me to separate myself from the charade, but at the same time you want me to make Katniss believe that it's real? How is that fair to her?"_

 _"It's not," Haymitch acknowledges nonchalantly. "But if you want people to believe it, I think this is the best way to make that happen. Katniss is a bleeding heart blanketed in steel; she cares deeply but practically runs at the prospect of actually expressing her emotions of her own volition. I believe she is seriously overestimating her acting capabilities. And when it comes right down to it, the more sponsors you guys get, the better chance you'll have of making it out alive."_

 _Peeta is quiet for a long time. My heart sounds thunderous as it hammers painfully in my ribcage. I can feel my breathing creeping towards hyperventilation. How did my own plan get away from me like this? I was supposed to be in control of this situation and now I'm not even supposed to know the strategy. Peeta and I are supposed to be in this plan together. We are supposed to be a team. He can't possibly agree to this, can he? He'll never manipulate my feelings the way Haymitch wants him to._

 _Right?_

 _"Okay," Peeta concedes. "I'll do it."_

 _Betrayal burns like fire in my chest. Turns out I am wrong about him._

 _"We'll do this your way. But after all I'm agreeing to, I have one condition of my own."_

 _"Alright."_

 _Peeta pauses, "If it comes down to it and you have to choose between us in the arena, you choose Katniss. She has people back home who need her."_

 _Haymitch snorts, grabbing the crystal bourbon pitcher again, "I was going to choose her anyway."_

 _While Peeta and Haymitch eat the remainder of their breakfast in silence, I sit in the hidden corner of the hallway for a while, contemplating everything I just heard. Not only is Peeta going behind my back with Haymitch and not only is he planning to manipulate me into falling in love with him, but he also promised Haymitch that no matter what, he would not feel anything real for me. He promised it would all be fake._

 _I feel like someone punched me in the stomach._

 _But why?_

 _What did I really expect?_

 _Peeta and I weren't friends back in 12. We didn't know each other. We only every spoke the one time, all those years ago, when he gave me the bread that saved my life. He could have had a girlfriend, or many, for all I know. He could have been with all the girls in the Seam. He could have dated girls from town. He has never owed me anything. I was the only one holding on to the memory of the bread._

 _I feel sick._

 _Did I really think that the things Peeta said to me were genuine? Did I really think that kiss meant something? That the way he looked at me after he kissed me was real? That he felt the fire, too?_

 _The rolling waves of nausea answer the questions for me._

 _I force myself up from the floor and make my way back to the bedroom. Fine. If that's how Peeta and Haymitch want to play this, then I will go along like a good girl. I will get as many sponsors as I can and I will protect Peeta in the arena. I will do everything I can to save his life so I don't have to owe him anything anymore._

* * *

One by one, we watch all of the tributes before us do their live interviews on the large monitors that line the hall. The tributes from District 1 and District 2, Marvel and Glimmer and Cato and Clove respectively, are both beautiful and intimidating. They make up the Careers- the tributes who are groomed for the Games basically since they're born. They even have special schools for them that teach them everything they could ever need to know about the Games. They almost always win.

It hardly seems fair.

During their interviews, the Careers make the audience swoon and laugh and sometimes even cry. Anyone who says the Careers aren't taught literally _everything_ about the Games in those schools are seriously deluding themselves. They know how to capture an audience just as well as they know how to capture their prey. That only makes them all the more deadly to the rest of us.

Only now am I realizing just how convincing we really need to be.

The other 20 tributes don't really stand out all that much. Their interviews are all the same format: they talk about home, who they have waiting for them if they make it back, and what noble cause they will contribute their time to if they become a victor. Most of the time, the audience looks bored to tears.

The camera pans back to Caesar Flickerman, with his ridiculous blue hair, as he thanks the female tribute from District 11, Rue I think, for her time.

"And now, the male tribute from District 12, put your hands together for Mr. Peeta Mellark!" Caesar Flickerman makes a dramatic flourish to the side of the stage where we all enter from and just as Peeta walks up the stairs, he turns and presses his lips softly to mine.

"Knock 'em dead," I manage half a smile before he nods and disappears onto the stage.

Now, all I can do is watch.

* * *

Peeta shakes hands with Caesar Flickerman exuberantly, a large inviting smile showcasing his perfectly straight, white teeth. Caesar laughs like he always does during introductions as he invites Peeta to sit in the chair next to him. As if we have a choice.

"Welcome, my boy. Welcome! How are you doing on this fine Capitol evening?"

"How could anyone be less than great in the Capitol?" Peeta responds, his smile dazzling. "I'm thrilled to be here and finally meeting you in person! You're actually much more colorful than you look on TV."

If there is one thing we all know about Caesar Flickerman, it's that you have to stroke his ego.

The host laughs again, his large fake teeth glinting with... glitter? Jesus. "Ha, ha, ha! Why yes, I do like to be the peacock of the party! But enough about me Mr. Mellark. We are here to get to know _you_! Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself and the District you come from?"  
Peeta looks down for a moment, and to the audience, it looks like he is thinking of what he's going to say. I know better. He looks up with a faraway look on his face, "District 12 is actually a much more beautiful place than you see on TV. As you know, our main export is coal, and the fine layer of coal dust that settles over everything in the District catches the sun like diamonds sometimes. It really is magnificent."

The audience is absolutely silent, riveted by his description of our home.

"And what about you, my boy? What did you do in District 12 before the Reaping? Were you a coal miner?" Caesar Flickerman asks, his voice gentle as to not break the spell Peeta cast on everyone.

He shakes his head, his beautiful golden curls jostling slightly, "No, no. Not me. I was a baker. My family owns the only bakery in the District. I would bake all the bread and decorate the cakes for our bakery."

I could practically hear the women in the audience swoon over him. And why wouldn't they? With a face and body like his, Peeta could have said he cleaned up the poop from the cows and they would still sigh over him.

"And did you enjoy that? Your job in the bakery?"

Peeta smiles his dazzling smile again, "Oh yes. Baking comes from the heart, so nothing felt better than watching someone eat what I made and enjoy it."

A few more girls in the audience sigh. I roll my eyes.

Caesar Flickerman, always one for ramping up the drama, decides to move on from the subject, "And is there a special lady in your life, Mr. Mellark? A handsome man like you; certainly there must be a _few_ ladies, hm?"

I grit my teeth.

Peeta laughs, shaking his head and tousling his hair again, "No, no, Caesar. No 'ladies' for me. I'm a one woman man."

The audience gives a loud _'wooo!'_ and Caesar laughs dramatically, "Oh, ho! So there _is_ a special someone, then?"

Peeta's face falls a little and he nods, "Yes, there is. I've been in love with her for as long as I can remember. Something about the way her hair shines under the sunlight and the way her gray eyes look when she's angry... I've been a goner ever since I first laid eyes on her. I remember once I saw her out at night and under the light of the moon, she looked like a Goddess. I remembering wondering how something so beautiful could really exist in this world. But there she was. Real as the heart pounding in my chest for her."

The audience is holding their breath and I realize, I am too. Peeta's talking about me like... like he really...

No. It's not real. Not real. Not real. None of his words are real.

But I wish they were.

"Wow," Caesar says quietly. "She sounds like quite a woman."

He smiles sadly, "There is certainly no one else in this world like her. But... I don't think it's going to work out."

Members of the audience mutter _'no!'_ , many of the women clasping their hands together at their chests.

"And why not, my boy? If you win the Games, she will _have_ to go out with you when you get home! No one could deny the love of a victor."

He clears his throat and chews his bottom lip. Damn, he's good. As the camera pans closer to him, I can see a few tears sparkling in his crystalline eyes. Tears, too? Holy shit, he is so much better at this than I ever expected.

Caesar Flickerman leans forward, resting a hand on Peeta's knee. The audience is leaning forward in their seats as well. You can see that they are dying to know what's upsetting him.

"My boy, what ever is the matter?"

Peeta looks up at Caesar, his voice trembling, "She came here with me. She's a tribute in the Games."

The bomb has been dropped and the audience all give one, loud, collective gasp. They all know it's me.

At that very moment, a camera backstage pans to my face and I see myself on the screen. I didn't even realize that I was crying until now.

On an impulse, unsure of what I'm even doing, I run up the stairs in my ridiculous heels and onto the stage where Caesar is sitting with Peeta. When Peeta sees me coming towards him, he stands just in time for me to throw myself into his arms. I know that cameras must be focusing in on us like crazy, but I can't bring myself to care. I know the audience is going nuts behind us, cheering and whistling and clapping, but I can't bring myself to care. I'm so angry at Peeta. I'm so upset and confused and hurt. How dare he do this to me? How dare he say such beautiful things about me, things no one else has ever said, when I know they aren't true? Pretending to be in love was my idea. I was so excited about it at 3am because I knew it meant saving his life. But after the conversation I overheard between Haymitch and Peeta, after realizing that I _am_ feeling things for Peeta that are real when he promised Haymitch he would never feel anything for me, I don't know if I can do this. Even if it means saving his life, I don't know if I can pretend after all. Even knowing that Peeta doesn't mean any of it, I don't know if I can separate the real from the not real. Even knowing he's faking it, I don't know if I can take back how I already feel.

Haymitch was right about me.

But it's too late to turn back now.

Peeta's arms are wrapped tight around my waist and mine are wrapped around his neck. He turns his face into my neck, "Are you okay?" He breathes, quiet enough that the cameras won't pick it up.

I squeeze my eyes shut and nod, burying my face in his shoulder so I can talk without the cameras, "Just trying to give a good show."

I can tell by the way he squeeze my waist that he doesn't believe me.

Peeta pulls away, resting his forehead against mine; out of the corner of my eye, I can see our faces broadcast on the large screen above the stage. "We'll be okay," he says quietly and I'm sure he's as aware of the cameras trained on us as I am. His light sapphire eyes bore into mine, "Please, don't cry anymore."

And on national television, Peeta kisses me.

My reaction is completely inexcusable.

Just like the first time he kissed me, I'm on fire. My fingers grip the back of his head, tangling in his glossy golden curls. I weld my body to his, desperate to feel every inch of him through my silk dress. My lips part and I sigh, taking in the ever intoxicating scent of him. Peeta's tongue dances along my lips and when he reaches my tongue, I practically collapse. The taste of him has my head spinning. How is it possible to react so strongly to someone? How is it possible that I felt so little when Gale kissed me but I feel so much with Peeta?

 _Not real. Not real. Not real._ The words play in a loop in my head, but they are just black words on a white backdrop. They have no meaning. Not right now.

I can feel Peeta's fingers welded to my hips, gripping so hard I may have bruises tomorrow. Is he angry? It doesn't even register in my brain that we are on live TV. All I can think about is feeding the fire.

Caesar Flickerman laughs and I'm brought back to reality, "Alright love birds, I'm afraid our time with Mr. Mellark is up!"

We pull away from each other and when I open my eyes, Peeta is looking at me in the strangest way. He doesn't look angry, he just looks broken. I put a hand on his cheek and smile at him, "Stop giving me that look. You're going to distract me from the interview I still have to do."

The audience chuckles at my remark.

Peeta kisses me gently one more time, his eyes boring into mine, before he turns back to Caesar, arm still around my waist. They shake hands and Peeta smiles widely, "Thanks so much for your time, Caesar. We should do this again sometime."

Caesar laughs obnoxiously, his teeth glittering as he slaps Peeta on the back genially, "Of course, my boy! And the best of luck to you in the Games and in love!"

Peeta waves to the audience before slipping his arm from my waist and disappearing back down to where we came from.

I'm blushing furiously as Caesar takes my hand and kisses it regally before turning to audience, "Ladies and gentleman, the female tribute from District 12- and the lady who stole Mr. Peeta Mellark's heart- Miss Katniss Everdeen!"

I take my place in the chair next to Caesar where Peeta sat just moments before and I smooth my dress over my thighs. I take a few deep breaths before I allow my eyes to meet those of the exuberant host before me. He is grinning from ear to ear as he recaps everything that just happened, even though the audience was there for the whole thing. I know he is doing it for the viewers outside the studio.

"My, my, Miss Everdeen, you certainly seem like a woman on fire! Has Mr. Mellark ignited you so with his declarations of love? His musings of watching you in the moonlight like an ethereal being?"

I blush again and give a shy nod, "It would seem so."

He fires questions at me left and right, all of them about Peeta and the way he makes me feel. But only one question from the entire interview stands out in my mind.

"So tell me, Miss Everdeen-"

"Please, call me Katniss," I smile innocently, batting my ridiculous false eyelashes a little more than really necessary. I'm starting to get the hang of the 'making people like me' thing.

It seems to work. He grins, "Of course. Katniss. So tell me, Katniss, if the circumstances were different, do you think you and Mr. Mellark would be together?"

I shake my head, "I wouldn't change the circumstances, Caesar."

He seems intrigued. He cocks a stupid blue eyebrow, "And why is that?"

My hands tremble a little but I shove them into my lap and look out at the audience, "Because of the Games, I found love. And that is something I would never change."

Every single person in the studio, including Caesar Flickerman, gives a small _'awh'_ at my words.

On the outside, I'm smiling meekly and blushing like an innocent girl in love. Just like I planned. Just like Haymitch and Peeta wanted.

Inside, I'm screaming.

This is bad.

I never should have suggested this.


End file.
